A Cruel Fate
by psychoticphoenix
Summary: Because even if in another life, they could have had so much more. Companion/ prequel to 'A Miserable Destiny'. Rated for language. Book and movie-verse.


**Author's Note: **Sobbing at Clato fics since I started shipping them. And then this plot bunny smacked me on the face like a Capitol muttation. I had to write it, I really had to. *sobs*

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The Hunger Games. Books, nor the movie.

* * *

Cato and Clove.

Clove and Cato.

The born and bred killing machines of District Two.

The boy with the sword and the girl with the knives.

Either one will emerge out of the arena and be crowned Victor.

That's who we are.

No, that's all they ever saw we are.

* * *

Training. That's where we first met. In our District, that's about the only place you'll be in. Until the age of eighteen, that is. Unless you end up in the Games and either die or win. Or if you somehow manage to get injured (or permanently damaged) during training, then you'd be sent to work at the mines or be a stonecutter. Or if you're lucky (and able), you could be trained to be a Peacekeeper instead. That's all there ever is to life in District Two. And mine wasn't any different.

Clove. Over the years, people in the Academy have learned to fear my name. Why wouldn't they? Everyone knew how handy I was with the knives. 'The Psycho', that's what they call me. Incapable of feeling mercy for her opponents and most likely has something wrong with her wiring. But who cares, that's what they were training all of us to be. Ruthless killers.

And I liked it, loved it even. Bloodthirsty, that's what I was.

That's what they all assumed. No one ever thought that psycho Clove was just a scared little girl who dreaded each and every birthday because it was a step closer to tesserae, a step closer to getting chosen to be in The Hunger Games, a step closer to either fame or death. No one ever thought that, because Clove was invincible. Throw her into the arena and she'll go out a Victor. She'll kill every single one of those tributes with her pretty knives, enjoying their deaths, relishing their blood pouring. She wasn't afraid of anything. Hell, she didn't even fear death. The perfect Career.

They're wrong. They couldn't be more wrong, because I was just a scared little girl. I aced every test in the Academy without batting an eye, yes, but I was still scared. I was only human, one who has emotions just like everyone else. I wake up every night to nightmares of getting killed. But if I let my unfeeling mask slip off, what then? Fear and intimidation were the only weapons I had in reality. The knives and all else I have been trained for did nothing else but assure me that one day I might need them. That one day I will have to fight for my life. Did they ever make me feel safe? Oh please. They only made me even surer that I had a chance at having an early death. Clove lets everyone see she's afraid, and I lose my only true weapons.

They're right about one thing though, I hate being, feeling and looking vulnerable. I can't stand it. Either way, it will get me killed. Showing fear in the Academy was like posting a neon sign of "Quick, end my life." above your head. That goes for real life as well. We live in a tough world.

A horrible, horrible world.

* * *

"CLOVE!"

I smile. Cato's coming for me.

I don't even try to fight back as the rock comes crushing through my skull.

* * *

The boys and girls in the academy are trained separately unless the trainers see fit. They stay on the other side of the academy and us on the other. Even classes on other aspects of survival weren't co-ed. We even had a separate cafeteria. They could have easily split the academy and it wouldn't be any different. Can't have the trainees getting attached, can we? The trainers aren't unaware of hormones, and apparently, they can be a huge pain in the neck during training. So when one day our trainer suddenly announced a cross training with the boys for a whole day, many were surprised. I had to stop myself from throwing my knives at those who suddenly started giggling in anticipation. Sure, I'm not the ruthless killer everyone thinks me to be, but a chance to even hurt one of those people who believe that to kill or be killed is the only way of life gives me the excuse to release my frustration at the way they were making us live.

I managed to not roll my eyes at the absurdity of all the giggling females in the locker room as I got ready for the cross training. I'm as cold as ice, or so they say. Keeping her composure as an iceberg would, cold and intact.

The boys' training area didn't have any difference to ours. At least they weren't going easy on us just because we were girls.

Cato. Tall, blonde and muscular. Could kill with his bare hands, they said. Handy with a sword too, not so bad with a spear either. Also, not bad on the eyes, definitely sponsor worthy. He was only a year older than me, so he couldn't have been much longer in the academy than I was. During a pathetic fight which ended up with the boy and girl making out like there was no tomorrow, I saw our trainers talking and whispers started erupting. They were going to pit us against each other. Best boy and best girl in the academy.

I started to plan my strategy. How hard could it be, when I can throw knives from any distance and still not miss? A sword, on the other hand, cannot be as easily thrown at an opponent. Distance was on my favor. In case he decides to use a spear on me, I can still rely on my agility. My knife would probably be in his body armor before his spear even leaves his hand anyway. And in case it ever resolves to brute force, I was still capable of bringing him down. I could easily bring down all the girls in our training, even the older and taller ones. He'd just be another person to release my anger on. Maybe he'd be more of a worthy opponent and actually give me a better fight than others I've fought so far, all the better. But at the end of it all, I would still win.

I wasn't disappointed. The minute the trainers closed the door to the battle room, we had lunged at each other and fought with all our might. No speaking happened between us, not even an introduction, just glares and smirks. I threw a knife at him that would've rammed straight into his head, one of my best tactics, quite a handful of people have suffered this fate and ended up dead because they didn't duck fast enough. But he, he dodged it and slashed at me with his sword. I jumped back and it barely touched my chest. He gave a nod and chuckled, as if amused with me. I smirked in reply, he wasn't so bad himself. Later on he had lost his sword and I had run out of knives. The spear just whizzed by my head and we found ourselves unarmed. We didn't even think for a second before we ran at each other and grabbed for each other's throats. After a few moments of rolling around, I took out the knife I had hidden in my clothes and put it to his jugular. I looked at him with triumphant eyes and he grins, and only then did I realize that he had pulled the same trick as I had, with one of my knives at my throat.

"Nice." He breathed out as the trainers rushed in the room and pulled us off each other. They didn't really want us to kill each other, because that would be two less of good bets for the Games. They just wanted to see how we would fight each other. And that's what they got. Neither of us lost. Both of us winners. That was the first time I had fought a battle that ended with a draw.

I don't know how or why, but somewhere between me throwing knives at him and him trying to stab me to death, a mutual respect was formed. Since then, every time there was a cross training, we sought each other out and trained together. Even then, few words were exchanged between us.

* * *

Katniss and 11 were talking. About the girl from 11, I assume. Poor girl, so young…

I couldn't even make out their words anymore. But I lay there, waiting.

Soon Cato would come and everything would be alright.

* * *

I glared at the figure who dared stand in front of the table I was sitting at. I usually ate alone, and no one ever had the guts to sit with the psycho, so I was territorial when someone approached me. It was also one of the few times I could be alone with my thoughts, mentally killing each and everyone, starting a rebellion and putting an end to deaths all over Panem. I could care less about the others, I told myself, so as long as my life isn't put in danger.

It was Cato. He stood there with his tray, looking all fearless and arrogant. It was one of those days of cross training again, roughly two years from when we first met. I was eleven and he was twelve, already eligible for the Hunger Games. But he wasn't going in the arena this year. That was for sure. I knew that because every year, the male and female Careers from our District were carefully chosen in the academy beforehand. Usually, the male and female Careers came from those aged 15-17, considered in our academy, 'the ripest ages' where our full potentials are most active. Potentials to kill, of course. Whoever in the academy is best in that age bracket at the time of the upcoming Games is chosen and assigned to volunteer come Reaping Day. If anyone wanted to question that and prove that they were more worthy (which almost always happens, arrogant fucks), several fights would be held to settle the score. Easy as that.

"What do you want?" I ask, turning back to my badly mutilated food. What can I say, they served food that required knives to go along.

He didn't answer. Instead, he plopped himself on the seat across mine and started eating. I narrowed my eyes at him. The others were starting to look and whisper amongst themselves. One glare to their direction shut them up.

I sent my fork clanging against the plate and stood to leave.

"Clove."

I freeze. Did he just call my name? I turn to look at him and see his blue eyes piercing into mine. I sat down and he gave a small amused smile before resuming his eating.

I sighed in annoyance. What was he playing at?

"How do you know my name?" I ask instead. Quietly, still menacing, but the question sounded really stupid.

He looked at me. "The same way you know mine."

I gave him a look that communicated _'And why in hell do you think I know your name?'_

He stared back. _'Don't lie.' _

I didn't say anything and grabbed my knife and started to play with it. Just in case. He was the only threat in here, after all.

"Don't you just hate it?" he speaks up again.

"What?" for once, I was genuinely confused.

He motioned with his spoon. "All this. It's not a normal life. It's not even a healthy life."

I frowned, still unsure of his intentions. In a training arena I could easily judge him, analyze by his movements what he was planning to throw at me next. But we weren't in the middle of a fight, and this was the first real conversation we've actually had. "What's up with the small talk?"

"Relax, would you? You're the only person here who's at par with me." He said, obviously getting annoyed at my suspicious reaction.

What he said was true. So I backed off, sipped my water and just nodded.

"What, you suddenly mute now, Clove?"

I glared. "Yeah, I hate all this too."

And just like that, an unlikely alliance was formed.

* * *

I moaned, my breathing slowing down. 12 and 11 prepared to take off.

Cato arrived, kneeling immediately on the ground beside me, spear still in one of his hands.

"Clove." He pleaded. "Stay with me, Clove."

* * *

Our district representative, this year in an eye-gouging yellow-green outfit, had barely read the name on the slip of paper when I stepped forward, calling out, "I volunteer as Tribute."

It wasn't an unfamiliar sight and the representative gave a shrug and a smile and motioned me to the stage. I shot a look at Cato who gave me a gruff nod.

This was our year.

* * *

"Cato." I smiled, wincing at the effort it took me to do such a simple action. "You…"

He looked at me with those blue eyes. Those beautiful, sad blue eyes. "Clove, stay with me. Us against them all remember? Clove?"

I nodded weakly, feeling his hand on one of mine. Barely feeling it, but it was there.

* * *

The train ride was brief, and the first half was spent with our mentors telling us things we already knew. Things we've known since we could talk and walk. Things we knew before we could even think. The second half of it was spent with Cato and me staring wordlessly at each other. When we arrived at the Capitol, I stood up, put on my most charming smile and smugly waved at the Capitol citizens. Cato followed me, dazzling them with his best smile as well.

Life as Careers meant constantly having to put on a mask.

* * *

The night before the Games, I sat in my room contemplating my horrible fate. I knew that sooner or later I would've been chosen by the academy, but all those years of preparing haven't killed the sacred little girl inside of me. And that night I let her take over and shook with all the silent tears my inevitable fate brought me.

A knock came on my door and I sat up with a start. Not even on what could be my last night outside the arena could I get any peace of mind.

"Clove, it's me."

It was Cato's voice. I figured if I let him in and he sees the wreck that I am, he'd be disgusted of his district partner and won't even have me for an ally inside the arena. After all, my cold exterior was my only true weapon in the real world.

"Clove?" I shook my head. Did Cato's voice just break? I wiped off my tears and walked to the door, taking a chance. A chance that maybe Cato was scared as I was, and that we somehow would find strength in each other, even if for the last time. I knew our mentors have already talked it over with District 1 and he and that girl, Gorgeous, or whatever her name is that most definitely fits her beautiful, flawless face, are to be sold as a pair: the perfect couple in the arena. Hopefully overthrowing the stupid Starcrossed Lovers from 12 in the process.

I opened the door and there he was, for once without the aura of someone so sure of himself. I remembered when he had stepped up to be the male Tribute before anyone had even been picked. He looked so sure of himself and his capabilities. To see him looking lost made my chest tighten. He took one long look at me and enveloped me in a crushing hug. I raised my hands feebly to hug him back, and we stayed like that for a few moments, his heart beating wildly in his chest on which my forehead was resting.

We parted, and I clambered over to my bed. He closed the door before joining me on it. He opened his arms once again and I crawled into them, sobbing silently. "I know." He whispered. "I am too." He sounded pained. It was then that I realized that he too, was just a scared boy from District Two. One who'd rather live a normal life without being in the threat of dying in an arena while the whole nation watches. It was then that his words from all those years ago made sense to me.

"_Don't you just hate it? All this." _

When the tears had ceased to fall and emotions had gone numb, we stayed in that position, getting strength from each other at our weakest moments. Tomorrow, we would have to resume the cool and composed expressions. Tomorrow we would be seen by Panem as the bloodthirsty Careers from District Two, out to kill anyone who stepped in our way to victory. We didn't talk about what would happen if in the end it comes down to just us two.

"Do you think we could've been friends?" Cato had whispered into my hair.

"In another life, maybe." I sighed.

"Yeah, I think so too." I felt the corners of his lips turn up against my hair.

Then, despite everything, I actually smiled out of happiness for the first time in my whole life.

* * *

It didn't even hurt, my last moments. At least, physically. What hurt then, was how much I regretted not telling him earlier. I didn't have any sort of feelings for anyone, until he came along. Those feelings were foreign, never in my life had I cared for anyone, and love was even more foreign. But all that changed when Cato came into my life. He was the first person to earn my respect, my admiration, and later on, even more. I actually mentally slapped myself when I realized I was jealous at the sight of Glamour (or whatever her name is) sleeping on his arm. And then, during the rule change, I realized that Cato was more than just an ally and a district partner to me.

"_Both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive."_

I froze and turned to Cato. He had lost himself when the supplies were bombed, and I saw his eyes go wild. I managed to calm him down and he was currently sitting on a boulder with his hands in his hair. He was staring at me too, and at that moment I saw a flash of sanity in those eyes again. He gave a glorious laugh and ran to me. Before I could say a word, he swooped down and kissed me.

I didn't push him nor pulled myself away. Hell, even if I was to die, I would have welcomed death gladly then.

* * *

"Clo-ove." He was sobbing now. Not even in our last night at the Capitol had I seen him so distressed. "Stay with me, please."

"Cato." Even dying, my voice had the power to bring him to his senses. He looked at me in the eyes.

I raised my hand to his face.

"I think we could've been more."

_And the cannon fires._

* * *

**Author's Note: **How was it? Also,I _would _write a companion fic in Cato's POV, but only if you request it. *wipes a tear* Seriously, where do all these feels come from?


End file.
